


and if it's crazy, live a little crazy

by abyssith



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Biting, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub, Drunk Sex, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Barnum, because dammit this bullshit got too long, bottom phillip, by the time they're actually fucking, can i really tag it as drunk sex if they're pretty much sober, extremely brief spanking, i'm afraid of the length of this godforsaken fic, mild asphyixation, this fic has it all if you look hard enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 18:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13463862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyssith/pseuds/abyssith
Summary: Both men look down at the tie on the floor for a moment that stretches into a still silence. It’s only when Phillip slowly looks back up at Barnum, who meets his gaze with a feral stare, that he realizes what a grave mistake he made.





	and if it's crazy, live a little crazy

**Author's Note:**

> this is the filthiest thing i've ever written

There’s something ethereal in seeing the vast number of joyous faces staring down at him. Though they are made dark by the shadows in the corners of the tent, their passion is hard to ignore.

As Phillip prances out in front of the performers, twirling the cane underneath his arm with graceful expertise, a beam that he is still getting familiar with stretches from one side of his face to the other. Once upon a time he was a shy boy who was scarcely ever heard from unless addressed directly. He never spoke at the table and certainly never made to call attention to himself. He was just a young, polite child living in the shadow of two parents whom he never really connected with.

Here he stands now, a true living and breathing example of how drastically time and the right people can change one’s attitude. Phillip confidently performs his heart out, never having to think twice. He hears the people cheering and he knows that it’s for  _him_ , it’s for his  _performers_ , it’s for this  _circus_  and it’s wonderful, beautiful—everything he never knew he wanted. How, then, could all of this have possibly started in a bar when a charismatic man offered to buy him a drink before proceeding to serenade him?

Phillip was told that his mentor was in the crowd tonight, a rare phenomenon on the weekends due to having to take care of his girls. But this is their fifth consecutive sold-out show, and Phillip (amongst a unanimous company) decided to celebrate with an afterparty. Barnum was of course invited, and Charity allowed him without much protest. She, however, had to remain at home to take care of Caroline and Helen. Yet as Phillip scans the shadowed faces through quick glances between twirls and jumps, not once does he find the set of hazel eyes he is searching for.

The effect is slight, but it is there. A little air is let out and Phillip loses his momentum in his next few moves, missing some of the energy he had previously possessed. But when Anne catches his gaze, somewhere twenty feet above the ground, to flash him a white smile, Phillip puffs his chest back out and spreads his arms wide. This is his time, and whether Barnum is watching him or not, he will perform.

 

* * *

 

When Phillip jogs backstage to rejoin the performers after bidding  _farewell_  and  _thank you_ to the audience, he finds that a compact circle has condensed around a hidden person whose identity he immediately knows. He tries to speak above the babble, calling, “Hey! Barnum, is that you I hear?”

Immediately the performers lapse into hushed murmurs and part, with Lettie and W.D. making a path between them. Barnum stands there, grinning widely at Phillip with a bottle of champagne extended towards him.

“Phin,” Phillip exclaims with glee, moving in to embrace the other man. Barnum leans into him and hugs him tightly. The ringleader pats Barnum’s back twice, getting dizzy with the aroma of the familiar and addicting cologne.

“I’m so glad you made it,” he mutters into Barnum’s ear.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Barnum pulls away just enough to look Phillip in the eye and winks. “You did amazing out there, my friend.”

Phillip chuckles through his nose and looks down sheepishly. “They were the ones who made the show,” he replies with a smile, dropping his arms to gesture to the circle of performers around them. “ _They_  are who the people come for. I’m just the one who spurred them on.”

“Hear hear!” shouts someone—probably Charles. The rest of the performers follow suit and Phillip blushes with the surge of gratitude it strikes him with.

Barnum claps a hand on his shoulder and leans in, shaking the champagne bottle enticingly. “Would you do the honors of kicking this off?” he tempts.

Phillip rolls his eyes and puts his own hand on Barnum’s shoulder before taking the bottle and raising it up. In a jubilant voice he yells, “To the Barnum Circus!”

A collective roar of ecstasy lifts into the air of the empty circus tent as the champagne cork tumbles to the floor.

 

* * *

 

The party rolls on into the night, and though the ensemble is small, they make up for it with their reinvigorating personalities and full voices. To Phillip, it sounds like the circus capacity is overflowing all over again, and he fades in and out of moments of awe. Perhaps it is the effects of the champagne he consumes by the glass, but Phillip’s heart warms with a strange buzz. It sings for these people who have become his friends, and especially the few who have become a more legitimate family than his biological one ever could hope to be. For Anne. For  _Barnum_.

That is the man he finds himself standing beside while he laughs with W.D. and his sister, wobbling as they toast for some surely noble cause before Phillip downs half the the glass with a single dip of his head. Barnum hoots something before enthusiastically imbibing his own drink. Both men support each other with their arms as they speak with the trapeze artists in voices that sound a touch sluggish.

Phillip keeps squinting forward, trying to focus on Anne’s pretty face that keeps on swimming before him. Every once and a while her deep brown eyes will blur and become four rather than two. And it throws him off so badly each time that Phillip just presses his face into Barnum’s shoulder to breathe, relieved when the older man’s scent clears some of his head.

He hears W.D. laugh. “Carlyle, have you had too much to drink?” the man asks, stepping forward. An undertone of real concern runs through his calm words. “You look a tad sick.”

Barnum nudges Phillip and he looks up, blinking furiously to concentrate. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” he responds dismissively. The slur in his voice startles him. He waves his hand and forces a chuckle, accidentally snorting and making himself laugh even harder. Barnum holds him steady, definitely amused, while Phillip doubles over and endures his fit of giggles.

“I’m alright,” he hiccups, finally straightening back up. He focuses on Anne, then W.D., and then up at Barnum. A well-humored smile crinkles the sides of the elder’s eyes, and Phillip pouts. “What?”

“You’re fucking drunk, Phillip, that’s what,” Barnum chuckles. He turns towards the trapeze siblings and Phillip looks too, still frowning. “Would you two mind much if I steal him for a while? I’d like to have a word with him.”

W.D. gestures in affirmation and Anne agrees, “By all means, if you can. We’ll see you later?”

“Of course. We’re not leaving just yet.”

The two performers nod again and walk past them towards the main crowd. Anne briefly pauses beside Phillip and looks at him for a second before planting the quickest of kisses on his cheek. Then she’s gone.

Phillip’s eyebrows lift and he begins to stare over his shoulder, feeling a blush spread from where her lips touched him. However, his attention redirects when Barnum’s grip suddenly gets much tighter around his shoulder to pull him into the older man’s side. He is held there with a strong arm that promises no escape, and Phillip grunts, “What’s up with you, Barnum?”

“Nothing. Just come with me,” says Barnum, his eyes hardening when Phillip glances up at him.

“Do I have a choice?” he demands, stumbling along with his friend as he is hauled towards the table of drinks. Barnum doesn’t answer in his hurry. He temporarily releases Phillip in order to pick up two more glasses of liquor, which the younger man instinctively reaches for.

To his surprise Barnum elevates the glasses out of his reach, lifting his leg to teasingly tap his toe against Phillip’s knee. “I don’t think so,” he scolds in a joking tone. “You’re bad enough as it is. These are for me.”

“Barnum!”

Phillip’s mouth falls open in disappointment while Barnum tips the first glass into his mouth. It takes him two drafts to empty that one. He slings his arm around Phillip again to nurse the second one as they continue walking. Between delicate sips he says, “I wanted to compliment you on your success.”

“It’s not just mine,” Phillip points out, still eyeing the slim, half-filled glass. “You got me here.”

“True.”

While Barnum falls into a thoughtful silence, Phillip makes a quick grab for the glass and almost knocks the other over in his haste. He’s able to get a long, sweet drink before Barnum yanks the champagne away, shoving him back sharply. He is laughing, though. “You bastard! No more!”

Phillip is giggling again and Barnum tosses the now-empty glass to the side without thinking. Both of them wince at the harsh sound of shattering, and it is only then that Phillip realizes how drunk the elder actually is. “Whoops,” Barnum mutters. “I’ll get that later.”

Phillip punches Barnum’s arm and they set off again, exchanging meaningless words and laughs. He notices that Barnum is navigating them both back to the main auditorium, which has been empty for hours now. He doesn’t think to question it, though. Nor does he want to; he’s so earnestly fixated on the man practically holding him up that he really can’t pay attention to any other thought he might be having. Barnum’s strength is unfaltering, and Phillip begins to feel somewhat threatened by his tenacity.

Barnum reaches out to open up the flap of thick fabric separating the circus ring and stands from backstage. They duck underneath and Phillip is finally released from his friend’s vise. When the cover drops behind them, it reduces the sounds of the party into little more than a muffle so fast that Phillip is almost alarmed by the newfound privacy.

“This is nice,” he yawns, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back. He freezes, though, when Barnum looks at him piercingly. The intense glitter in his eyes, made brighter by the alcohol, captures Phillip in his pose while he slowly walks forward. “Is something wrong?” is all he can think to say.

Barnum stops when he comes a foot away from Philip. He tilts his head to the side, examining Phillip’s face with a scrutinizing gaze. His tongue slowly flicks out to moisten his lips, and Phillip automatically lowers his eyes to track the action. Odd, the effect isolation has on this man—his friend had transformed into someone entirely new so quickly he grows puzzled. Somewhat concerned.

Phillip watches his mouth move as Barnum says, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Would it kill you to be more specific?”

“You know. Since we…” His voice trails off and he edges a little closer. Phillip lifts his gaze to Barnum as the taller man bends down, a hand drifting up to Phillip’s face. His throat dries when the tips of Barnum’s fingers close around his chin, and a shudder runs from his temples to his hips when he leans in much too close. Phillip closes his eyes when the elder’s silky voice drifts into his ears like poison. It’s just one word, but it’s said so huskily and low and unusual for Barnum that Phillip mouth drops. “ _Spoke_.”

His fingers are still around Phillip’s chin and he doesn’t dare move his head when Barnum moves back into his line of vision. There is little to no distance between them, with Barnum still near enough that Phillip can smell the champagne clinging to his warm, shallow breaths. It washes over Phillip’s face and his eyelashes flutter with the shocking impact of it. He tries to think straight, he really does, but it’s so damn  _hard_  with the handsome man standing so fucking  _close_  and his lips just _right there_. And, if Phillip is being honest with himself, they look almost exactly the way he so often imagined them appearing up close. All red and soft and parted in that sick smirk he always loses to.

Phillip meets Barnum’s eyes, steadily as he can. “We were just—” A hiccup interrupts, quite out of the blue. “Talking. In there. Why’d you take us out here?”

Barnum shrugs nonchalantly. While his composure appears calm, his expression is alarmingly bizarre and Phillip is tempted to ask how much he had to drink. There’s the slightest flush in his cheeks, making his green-amber eyes stand out like diamonds.

He finally lets go of Phillip’s face. Smiling, he admits, “Maybe I wanted to get you alone.”

“Why?” Phillip asks after a long second. Barnum had put a little distance between them in the time it took for the younger man to collect his thoughts, and now he is turning to the ring and walking around the perimeter. “Hey, Phin?”

“To congratulate you, surely,” comes the casual answer.

“Yes, but.” Phillip gives up trying to talk where he stands and chases after Barnum. He slows to an uneven walk after tripping and nearly falling on his nose. A long time is spent regaining balance.

“Haven’t you done that already?” he asks when he reaches his friend. Barnum’s bright red bowtie momentarily distracts him.

“Well, yes, but I wasn’t done yet.”

“Then get on with it!”

A sly smile pulls at the corner of Barnum’s mouth. He cocks his head ever so much to the right and pauses before humming, “I just wanted to say that—you know, Phillip.”

“Yes?” A bit of irritation spills into Phillip’s tone.

“I once had a fear you’d refuse to join me.”

“That’s very sweet, Barnum, tha—”

“I’m very glad you did.”

The absurdity and out-of-place quality this conversation possesses irks Phillip greatly. “Are you going to kill me?” he questions warily, only half joking.

Barnum throws his head back and laughs—a loud, raucous laugh, one that leaps wildly with a tipsy echo. “No, no, my friend,” he chuckles. “I’m here to thank you.”

Phillip begins to reply, but his voice dies in his throat when Barnum sticks his face in again. His whole body follows this time and Phillip observes, entirely in shock, when their chests bump together. A part of him is urging him to back up, flatten his hand against Barnum’s chest and push him away. That part is lost, though, to the many, many voices shouting out and filling him with senseless excitement.

The lines of his judgement are blurred by the booze and Barnum’s strong, intoxicating aroma. Because of this he puts up almost no resistance at all when Barnum reaches out, so confidently it looks planned, and caresses Phillip’s face. Then one of his hands slips into the longer, gel-swept hair on top of Phillip’s head and stays there, twisting in the soft locks.

Phillip gasps quietly, taken aback by the force he is met with when Barnum tilts head back, thumbing his bottom lip. “Barnum,” he whispers, finding enough sense inside him to place his hands on the man's shoulders. “We can’t—you gotta…stop…”

Barnum's face is close, so tantalizingly close. Phillip can feel their lips brushing, their noses rubbing against each other. “I miss seeing you every day,” mutters the elder.

“You too, but— _Barnum_ …”

A choppy exhale sneaks past his teeth—Barnum’s lips are against the corner of his mouth.

Phillip closes his eyes, his fingers curling into the fabric of his friend's shirt. He can't move, can't do anything but let this man have his way. The good Lord above knows Phillip can't stop him. Not while the alcohol is starting to truly hinder him, seizing the reigns of his self control with every passing second and insisting he give up. _So easy,_  it whispers with glee.  _So easy, so easy. Let it go._

And he wants to,  _fuck_ , does he want to. He knows he’s getting drunk all over again. If he opens his mouth a little wider, he can taste the champagne coating Barnum’s lips like syrup.

Phillip groans when Barnum’s tongue drags over his skin. Tempting him. “C’mon, Phillip,” he murmurs, pulling Phillip’s hair back.

His thumb slides into Phillip’s mouth and wedges it open wider. Phillip inhales sharply, overwhelmed by the intimate proximity between them. “Phin,” he tries to say, speaking around the finger resting on his lower set of teeth. “Barnum, ah—” He throws his head back, gasping when Barnum thrusts his hips forward.

The friction is abrupt and small in comparison to what Phillip suspects Barnum can do, but in the moment it’s powerful. Powerful enough that Phillip moans—a good, proper moan that Barnum catches and sniggers at. “Don’t fight it,” he whispers, and Phillip doesn’t know if he means the alcohol or himself.

Barnum fastens his teeth around Phillip’s bottom lip and tugs on it, staring into his eyes the entire time. Phillip can only watch, slack-jawed through a foggy daze. He paws at Barnum powerlessly, and quite by accident he winds up loosening the tie. It falls to the floor, drooping over their shoes in a heap of silk.

Both men look down at the tie on the floor for a moment that stretches into a still silence. It’s only when Phillip slowly looks back up at Barnum, who meets his gaze with a feral stare, that he realizes what a grave mistake he made.

Barnum’s eyes narrow and his smirk grows. The thumb in Phillip’s mouth trails out to settle against the side of his lips, moistening his skin with his own saliva. Phillip’s vision tunnels narrower and narrower until it’s only Barnum that he sees. The vicious, drunken eyes glittering beneath long chestnut lashes hypnotize him, guiding Phillip’s hands up to Barnum’s neck. As if yanked together by a drawstring, the men move forward in unison, crashing in a mess of lips and tongue and teeth.

The effect is immediate. Phillip loses his mind and sense as quickly as the kiss began, never once thinking to fight back. The sweet, alluring traces of alcohol still left in Barnum’s mouth pull him in ever deeper and it’s a new mission to find every drop. The taller man attacks Phillip with the ferocity of the lions they tame; his teeth are just as sharp. Even with the liquor aiding him, Phillip can barely keep up. Soon he’s consumed by the erotic wave beating his body and sweeping him into its tide.

He groans when Barnum’s hand snakes around to grab the base of his head and push him closer. He can feel their foreheads pressing together as Barnum invades his mouth with his tongue, cutting off his breath. Phillip makes a feeble sound and tries to push Barnum away to gasp. Of course, he achieves no such success—Barnum is a relentless force, turning his head and finding a new way to kiss him.

Phillip is distantly aware of Barnum beginning to direct him backwards. He does his best to devote part of his concentration towards not stumbling—combined with the champagne and Barnum’s lips, this is one of the most challenging feats he has ever attempted. A shadow passes over them and Phillip realizes they’re walking underneath the stands.

“Phineas,” Phillip coughs the moment Barnum temporarily breaks away. Their chests rise and fall together and Phillip can’t feel anything but the heat in his face, the fire in his lips. Barnum stares him down, holding him against one of the wooden pillars supporting the stands. Their hips roll together and Phillip moans as Barnum grinds against him.

There’s a wicked smile plastered on the elder’s face, and a raging thirst surges through Phillip’s chest. He snags Barnum’s waist, clenching his teeth and leaning back against the pillar to try and focus. He matches Barnum’s rhythm almost automatically and cries out each time their erections collide. “Oh, God,” he exclaims. “Please.”

Barnum speaks in a guttural snarl. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Fuck, Phillip—you like that?”

Phillip chokes on the way Barnum’s voice fades into a sultry moan. He can’t possibly answer now, not while the burning ball of flames in his gut is slowly melting and dripping lower, lower, lower. His nerves are shifting into overdrive, and everything his senses gather seems to be off in some way. Barnum is glowing like a demon who wandered into heaven, and his candied lips taste like well-aged whiskey. It feels like there are hands all over Phillip’s body—but maybe that isn’t as much of a hallucination as the others, because Barnum’s fingers have not stopped moving once.

His vision clears when Barnum pulls off Phillip’s tie and begins to unbutton his ringleader coat. “Is this mine?” he mutters, nipping up Phillip’s jawline.

Phillip has long forgotten how to speak. “Possibly,” he eventually spits out. “I—lost the one you lent me.”

A sharp slap on the ass answers his words and Phillip lurches forward, gasping. A tight warmth wraps around his throat and he can’t get air into his lungs for a frightening moment. The spear of arousal Barnum drove into his body drills down in the form of pointed heat spiraling towards his hips. Chills breaks out all over Phillip’s body.

He begins to moan, resting his forehead against Barnum’s chest. The elder keeps one hand around Phillip’s ass, squeezing him while he gloats, “Didn’t expect that one, now, did you?”

“Phin,” Phillip cries out, flinching when Barnum spanks him again. The coat falls to the floor. “Shit,  _please_ —oh…”

Barnum pulls Phillip’s collar to the side and exposes his neck. “You stole my coat,” he hums with twisted elation. “You liked the way way it smells, huh?”

“Mhm,” groans Phillip. He hisses through his teeth because Barnum is pricking at his skin, starting from his smooth collarbone. The miniature shocks of pain do nothing but excite him, and he eagerly tilts his head to the side for the older man. Barnum’s authority is evident in every movement, from the firmness in his fingers to the sureness he bites Phillip with. There isn’t much difference between the man who showed him the circus ropes and the man grinding against him. There is an air of power that Barnum commands, and Phillip is finding out just how intimidating it can be.

As Barnum sucks on a hickey somewhere under his chin, he mumbles, “You’ve been to the storage shed out back?”

“Yes.” Phillip shivers, feeling his Adam’s apple move against Barnum’s mouth.“Yes.”

Barnum’s teeth flash in the striped glare of the spotlights beyond the stands. “Would you like to try something else, then?”

Phillip leans forward and kisses Barnum, desperate for another taste. “What,” he breathes, pulling at Barnum’s coat, “d’you have in mind?”

“Allow me to show you.”

Barnum swiftly shrugs his coat off, but not before Phillip sees him snatch a little jar. He transfers it into his back pocket and looks at Phillip from underneath his full brown eyebrows. Phillip stares back, his eyes so wide they might even appear horrified. But it’s not horror he watches Barnum with—no, that’s thrill spreading through his bloodstream. He knows what it was, and he feels his pants begin to strain at the seams.

Barnum doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to say anything. He just fixes Phillip with that same filthy gaze before grabbing his bicep and whisking him away. Phillip leans against him, thankful for the aid because he would otherwise be a pile on the floor. That split second tease still has him stunned, and the nails piercing into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt do more harm than good.

For a man who drank at least seven glasses of champagne, Barnum walks shockingly well. The only thing that might clue any witnesses into the suggestive behavior is the doll-like way Phillip is being dragged across the ring. Barnum keeps whispering things into his ear, things that Phillip would never have expected from his mouth. Prior to this night Phillip didn’t take his friend as a man of sexual allure, but the promises Barnum speaks of under rough breaths arouse him far more than any woman could. The blush that claims him from the collar and up is deep-set in his skin, spreading like a red-hued wildfire.

Everything is for Barnum.

The gust of cool night air that rushes over their huddled forms is barely felt. Phillip gulps it in greedily, having been oxygen-deprived for so long at the mercy of Barnum’s lips. The pace at which they move is almost unbearable and had it not been for the hand threatening the circulation in his arm, Phillip would have been left behind long ago.

They turn the corner of the tent and stride towards the back. The ground is softer here and it almost seems colder. The wood walls of the small storage shed emerge from the darkness, and Phillip’s heart skips more than a few beats. He’s only been inside a few times, but never with this intent.

He knows the effects of the champagne is very slowly but surely waning away, catalyzed by the fresh breeze. The blur that had edged his vision up until this point is beginning to fade, and Phillip half expects Barnum to suddenly come to his senses, stop them, and send Phillip back inside. But the words never come, Barnum’s grip never softens, and the flames never die in his eyes. The idea that Barnum is beginning to sober but still wants Phillip just as bad sets a certain weakness curling through his gut.

He’s pulled in front of Barnum’s body when they reach the doors. Barnum lets go of his arm but reaches around him to work the combination lock, peering over Phillip’s shoulder. He breathes against Phillip’s neck on purpose, snickering when the younger man trembles. “Phillip,” Barnum whispers, hands dangerously close to Phillip’s dick. “You’re mine.”

Phillip groans and tries to thrust into Barnum’s hands, but at that moment the lock clicks and falls to the ground. The taller man lifts his hands away and Phillip comes up short, whimpering when he hits nothing but air. Barnum chuckles impishly and moves around him to push the doors open.

The shed is dark when they step inside. Barnum briefly leaves Phillip to take a lamp down from a hook and set it on a table. He draws a match from one of the drawers to light it, blowing the match out after the little flame grows.

The lamplight casts a golden-orange glow throughout the small room. It touches on the racks lining the walls and outlines the various supplies stacked throughout the shelves. When Barnum turns to face Phillip, his features are highlighted with an almost devilish gleam. Shadows stretch underneath his eyebrows and find residence in the little dips and curves. When he grins at Phillip, left side completely cast in black, every single tooth glitters.

“Barnum,” Phillip whispers, turning to watch him walk over the the doors and throw them shut. They slam with a  _thud_  of finality, and Phillip’s heart jumps in time with the sound. There’s a grating, scraping sound as Barnum tows a cinder block along with him and pushes it against the doors. Sealing them, Phillip realizes.

“There we are,” mutters the older man, straightening back up. His hazel irises slice through the half-light. “No one’s walking in on us.”

Phillip is entranced by the darkness shifting across Barnum’s face. Barnum approaches him, flames dancing in his eyes and a tiger sneering through his smile. Phillip backs up instinctively and grabs one of the shelf foundations to steady himself.

Barnum reaches out and grabs his collar. “It’s just me and you,” he continues, yanking Phillip in.

“Okay,” gasps Phillip. He braces his hands against Barnum’s chest. “Okay.”

Barnum keeps playing with Phillip’s shirt, stepping closer and closer with each button he unfastens. “Do you have any idea,” he says, laughing a little, “what I want to do to you?”

Before Phillip can respond, Barnum abandons his half-open shirt to grab at his face and kiss him amorously. The way their lips meld into each other is beginning to become a familiar sensation. Phillip no longer hesitates, no longer pays mind to whatever inhibitions he may have had at the beginning of this night. Many of them were centered on Anne Wheeler, but with the way Barnum holds their hips together and the sure way he can surpass even Phillip, a man known for his secretive but bold advances, the girl vanishes into the back rooms of his thoughts.

He hardly pays attention to Barnum directing him to the side. When the solid, uneven shed wall presses into his back, Phillip falters in surprise. His heart pounds in his ears, the  _ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum_  drumming a tribal beat. The hand against his back slips lower and snakes beneath the waistband of his pants without any hesitation. Barnum thrusts his body forward, pinning Phillip against the wall as he cups his ass.

Phillip finally has to turn his head to the side to resurface for air. Barnum takes this opportunity to satisfy his fixation on Phillip’s skin and begins his trail of kisses down the unmarked side of his neck. As he does this he continues unbuttoning Phillip’s shirt with his free hand, working with nimbleness and ease. He makes a point to tug each time he frees a button.

Phillip squirms when Barnum chooses a spot near the base of his jaw to latch onto. Tendrils of electricity starburst from his mouth and permeate through Phillip’s quivering figure. “Please, Phin,” he moans. “Please.”

“What do you want?” Barnum purrs, reaching the last button. He rolls it around in his finger for a few seconds before loosening it. As soon as the shirt is opened he moves both hands up to Phillip’s shoulders, taking his sweet time with pushing the clothing down his arms. “Tell me, Phillip.”

“Fuck,” Phillip gasps. Barnum’s mouth is ghosting over his skin, letting the heat of his breath fall like feathers against him. His shirt is halfway down his elbows.

“Talk to me.” Barnum plants a kiss above Phillip’s eyes, which would be considered a gesture of love had it not been for the ruthless rolls of the elder’s hips. Phillip’s mouth widens and he throws his head back, struggling to gasp through his groaning. He distracts himself by finding Barnum’s own collar by touch rather than sight and hastily begins unbuttoning. Barnum makes no move to stop him.

“I want,” Phillip whimpers, fumbling with a button, “I want—”

Barnum leans in and rubs his chin against Phillip’s shoulder. “Louder,” he growls, yanking the shirt free.

The wood digs into Phillip’s back as Barnum shifts his weight forward. He winces at the bumpy surface and opens the last button on Barnum’s shirt. “You,” he groans.

“Didn’t hear you.”

“ _You,_  Phin.”

“What?”

Barnum grips Phillip’s hips and grinds against him, holding him in place. Dragging his hands through the elder’s hair, Phillip whines, “I want  _you_ ,  _Barnum—_ shit _—_ ”

“Aha,” Barnum grins. He grabs one of Phillip’s hands and guides it down between them. Phillip can’t see through the darkness, but when Barnum presses his palm against something linear and rigid, a moan from both their mouths invades the space between them. “You want that?”

“Oh my God,” mumbles the younger man. His fingers explore on their own, and Barnum lets out an abrupt, breathless groan. Phillip’s own dick twitches in response. “Yes.”

Barnum plants a hungry, lingering kiss on Phillip’s lips and mutters, “Alright then.” He trails his hands up Phillip’s arms, letting his nails mark a light red path up his biceps. Phillip whimpers softly, grunting when Barnum reaches his shoulders and pushes down on them.

Confusion blinds him and he initially fights back against Barnum’s hands. “Barnum, what a—”

“Down, Phillip.” Barnum’s grip tightens. Phillip cries out at the little needles of pain that stab at his skin and buckles under the pressure. His knees hit the floor and he promptly tries to get back up, but Barnum doesn’t let him rise again. He simply bends and lifts Phillip’s head with his thumb. “You said you wanted it,” Barnum reminds him softly, “didn’t you?”

A cold sweat breaks out all over Phillip’s body. Suddenly he feels very small as understanding dawns on him. “Fuck,” he whispers, watching Barnum unfasten his belt.

Barnum’s free hand slaps him lightly and Phillip yelps. He looks up at Barnum pleadingly. “Eyes on me,” the older man insists.

Phillip forces himself to obey, wishing with all his might that this situation would  _stop turning him on_  so much. The way Barnum holds his face up and gazes down at him with a mixture of fondness and desire sends heat rushing down between his hips. It’s like all the blood in his body is torn between flooding his face and his cock, resulting in a very light-headed and very aroused Phillip Carlyle. His hands move all on their own and he finds a place to rest his fingers in Barnum’s empty belt loops.

Barnum unzips his pants and Phillip flinches because that’s his  _dick_  brushing against his cheek and  _God it feels so long_ —

“Open,” Barnum tells him, his voice somehow gaining even more of a dark edge. Phillip has to close his eyes now; he’s so in danger of glancing to the side. He hesitates and in that moment Barnum rubs his lip in a consoling gesture. “Phillip,” he murmurs, and Phillip focuses on him again. “Open your mouth.”

Phillip stares up at him, watching the firelight flicker across Barnum’s face with an ethereal grace. It comforts him and lends him enough courage to nervously lick his lips and open his mouth. He knows all about blowjobs and what to expect—all his male friends pride themselves on getting them from their women, sparing no details at all until Phillip has to excuse himself before he can start blushing too hard. But nothing could have prepared him for Barnum to gently slide inside his mouth, heavy and strong and  _huge._  Phillip’s breath catches in his throat and he almost clamps his mouth shut. The only thing that keeps him from doing so is the long, barely-audible sigh from the man standing above him.

Barnum’s cock lies still on Phillip’s tongue after a moment and he can’t keep himself from looking anymore. He opens one eye and tries to peer through the darkness. He can just make out the veins rising from the fair skin that shines bronze in the flames from the lamp, glowing with a slight rose tinge. A powerful shock paralyzes Phillip for a moment, shock that this is happening and he’s on his knees in front of  _Barnum_  and this no longer had to be a picture restrained to his imagination.

Barnum’s eyes are half-lidded and unfocused, and he pushes his fingers through Phillip’s hair. He begins moving again once he decides Phillip has grown accustomed to the general feel of it. Phillip has to breathe through his nose as Barnum takes up more and more of his mouth, and he groans once when Barnum pulls on his hair a little too hard. “Fuck,” Barnum whispers. “Fuck, your mouth is so hot.”

Phillip moans again, letting the words sink into him. He can tell Barnum is hardly halfway in but his mouth is so  _full_. And it almost doesn’t matter, because the elder is gasping anyway. “Shit, Phillip.”

Phillip has a feeling that he’s going to start choking if Barnum pushes in any deeper. But still he tries; he makes himself inch his head forward just a little farther. He has to back off when something tickles his gag reflex, a sign of caution. The movement seemed to have an impact on Barnum, however—his eyes are fully closed and his fingers are pressing against Phillip’s scalp. “Oh,  _God,_  yes, Phillip,” he urges. “That’s it.”

Saliva begins to dribble out the side of Phillip’s mouth and drip onto his neck. He nods, hooking his fingers around the loops as an anchor. He pulls away long enough to take a deep breath before pushing forward. Tears prick at the corners of Phillip’s eyes, but he won’t let himself stop.  _Barnum_  won’t let him stop—his hands have begun to help Phillip keep rhythm. “Ah—oh, shit,” Barnum moans. His shirt falls around his biceps, and when Phillip glances up, he finally gets a full view of Barnum’s abdomen.

The protruding muscles in his arms flex as Barnum clutches at Phillip’s head, changing the shadows’ patterns every few seconds. Phillip watches as his sparsely hairy chest heaves up and down with each deep breath, just above the well-developed abs he never would have guessed Barnum possessed. Something of a trance passes over him as he reaches up, feeling Barnum for himself. The firmness of the muscles underneath his palm sends him staggering into a state of reverence for his friend.

The taste of salt soaks Phillip’s tongue, and it takes him a moment to figure out that Barnum’s pre-cum is leaking out. His moans have gotten louder, too, same as his praise. “God, yes, Phillip,” he hisses. Phillip has stopped bobbing for the sake of his own comfort and instead threw his tongue into it, slurping around Barnum’s dick in a way he hoped was right. “ _Just like that._ ”

His hands grab fistfuls of Phillip’s hair and the younger man cries out. Much of the sound is muffled by the length in his mouth. His face is damp with tears and spit mixed with Barnum’s pre-cum, and some of his hair is sticking to his forehead with the sweat moistening his skin. Phillip can only hear Barnum’s labored breathing and his own uneven gasps, many of them shortened by the former ringleader’s thrusts. Phillip knows that Barnum had been somewhat gentle before, but as he grows more and more aroused, he forgets.

He looks down at Phillip, who struggles to suck the way Barnum wants him to. “You look so fucking dirty,” he whispers, getting a sharp moan in response. “You should see yourself. Shit, and you’re just  _taking_  me. You’re so fucking hot, Phillip.”

Phillip groans and he knows he can’t take much more. He reaches down to touch himself, but Barnum catches his wrist before he can. “Almost,” he gasps.

The idea that Barnum is about to come in his mouth offers Phillip an incentive. He eagerly throws everything he’s got into it and sucks as hard as he can, dragging his tongue over the bottom of Barnum’s cock. His thighs begin to shake and Phillip holds his breath before forcing himself down on Barnum as far as he can go. He gags but he doesn’t care because Barnum is gulping for breath now, twisting and pulling on Phillip’s hair like a madman.

Phillip looks up as best he can, trying to catch Barnum’s eye. Barnum sees him and stares down, and perhaps that one shared look is what throws him off the edge.

He yells, curving backwards into a perfect crescent. Phillip has less than a second to brace himself before Barnum’s dick almost seems to swell before emptying in his mouth. This time Phillip really does choke because Barnum’s cum is so thick and viscous, and he can’t help but slide entirely off to keep from throwing up.

Barnum almost claws out clumps of Phillip’s hair before his hands finally relax. The younger man is sputtering and gasping uncontrollably, soaked in the ropy white liquid still spurting out. He falls to his hands to cough. He doesn’t even pay mind to the state of his face; the only thing he can feel is his own unattended erection weighing him down. He burns with adrenaline, and when he finally catches his breath, he shakily lifts his head.

“Phin,” he rasps, spitting out some of the cum still in his mouth. Barnum is there, squatting in front of him and taking his face into his hands. “Phineas, G-God—”

Barnum kisses him hard before he can finish. Phillip’s tastebuds are being overloaded with input—liquor, cum, Barnum, sweat. It tastes like sin but it’s so good all of a sudden, and Phillip finds he can’t get enough of it. He hangs onto Barnum for his life, needing more, so much more. Barnum wipes his face as they kiss, trying to clean it off. “It’s fine. I like it,” Phillip hears himself whisper.

Barnum hums, sounding pleased and even flattered. Under his breath he responds, “Your turn.”

He pushes Phillip away from him, back against the wall. Phillip rocks on the heels of his palms as Barnum pulls his pants down and steps out. He tosses Phillip a lopsided grin as the younger man drags his gaze down Barnum’s toned legs, swallowing once at the strength he finds there. Barnum has gone soft for the moment, but as Phillip keeps his eyes fixed on him, he begins to gradually fill back out.“Your lips are so swollen,” he muses, kneeling in front of Phillip’s bent legs. “And look at that. Your neck is already bruising.”

Barnum reaches out to brush at one of the hickeys on Phillip’s neck with a few fingers. Phillip trembles at his touch, feeling the raw skin protest with a spurt of flame. But he leans into Barnum’s hand submissively and moans, “You marked me.”

Barnum’s eyes immediately zero in on his own, and whatever hint of tenderness existed before this moment disappears in a flash. “Damn right.” His hand moves down to Phillip’s chest and he shoves him against the ground. Then he flattens Phillip’s legs, smirking at the little whine.

Phillip leans up on his elbows to glance down at the light gleaming on the leftover cum on his chest. He bites his lip when Barnum crawls over him, walking two fingers up to his collarbone. “You’re so hard for me now, aren’t you?” Barnum asks, resting his forehead against Phillip’s. Phillip traps his tongue between his teeth and just barely represses a cry when Barnum palms the exaggerated bulge in his pants. “Oh, hell, yeah you are.”

Phillip’s head falls back between his shoulder blades as Barnum keeps palming him. His chest shudders with each moan. After a thoughtful moment, Barnum slips two fingers between Phillip’s lips and toys with his tongue, groaning to himself. The action is hot and controlling all on its own, and Phillip gladly plays his part on closing his lips around Barnum’s fingers. He sucks on them slavishly, using his tongue just as he had with Barnum’s cock.

The faint sound of metal clattering against metal and leather being rubbed over fabric accompanies the breathy sounds rising into the hot air surrounding them. Barnum drops the belt to the side and pops his fingers out of Phillip’s mouth. He locks their eyes together before scraping his tongue over them, sucking on his own nails teasingly.

Phillip wonders if it’s possible to come without even being touched directly.

Finally, albeit agonizingly slow, Barnum begins to work Phillip’s pants off. The relief of the release of tight fabric exhilarates him at the same time it exposes him. Dark clouds of vulnerability crowd his head and he blushes a fierce scarlet as Barnum works his clothes down to his knees. He never touches Phillip, but the way he sets his eyes on his dick makes it feel as if he is. Phillip burns with embarrassment, though not of his average size as much as the way Barnum is eyeing him.

“Barnum,” Phillip says quietly, wishing he could grab onto something without lying all the way back.

“Mhm?”

“You’re—looking at me like—”

“Like I want to do this?” And at last Barnum wraps his fingers around Phillip’s dick. It’s so quick and confident and Phillip almost comes right then and there. He lets out a gasp so sudden he coughs as Barnum leans over him, just barely moving his hand up and down. “Because,” he mumbles in Phillip’s ear, “I do.”

“Ah—oh,  _fuck_ ,” Phillip moans. His mouth is wide open, and his nails dig into his fists as he clenches his hands tightly. “O-oh, Barnum, oh my God—please—”

Barnum’s thumb slides tauntingly over the little slit on the head of Phillip’s dick, where a bead of pre-cum has already collected. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Please, Phin,” pleads Phillip. He tries to sit up but Barnum stops him with a hand flat on his stomach. “I’ll beg again, I’ll do anything but  _oh_ , _Phin._ ” His elbows throb with his upper body weight and he can’t hold himself up anymore. As he falls, his hands find the legs of two shelves on either side of him and Phillip gratefully seizes them for support.

He tries to focus on breathing, but even that privilege is taken away from him when Barnum straddles his hips and grasps his neck possessively. Though his grip is light, his palm supplies enough pressure for one breath to cost twice the effort. Barnum picks up the pace, stroking faster and faster. This is the rhythm that Phillip’s groans fall in time with.

“And I thought you looked good sucking my cock,” Barnum says, drumming his fingers against Phillip’s skin. “Has Anne ever told you how gorgeous you fucking are?”

Phillip’s hips jerk upwards at those words, and it’s a struggle for even Barnum to drive him back down. “None of that. I won’t let you come if you do.”

“Don’t stop,” Phillip stammers. His nails sink into the wood of the shelves. “God, I’ll be good, Phin, just don’t fucking stop.”

Barnum laughs and kisses him before letting go. “One last push,” he mumbles into Phillip’s mouth. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes. Shit, Barnum. I’ll do anything.”

“I know.”

Barnum sits back and sorts through the pile of clothes carelessly strewn about the floor. He turns back with a familiar jar in his right hand, making a big show of uncapping it in front of Phillip. It has its intended effect, and all at once Phillip can’t keep himself from imagining Barnum slicking himself with the lube inside.

The elder sucks on his fingers again before dipping them inside the jar. They come back out gleaming and smooth, and Barnum looks down at the man between his legs with an unreadable expression. He almost looks like he’s waiting.

“Please,” Phillip murmurs without even thinking about it.

Barnum shuffles back until he’s at Phillip’s legs. He spreads them wide and the younger man whimpers anxiously. His heart leaps underneath the surface of his skin, beating so hard Phillip is genuinely worried it might break free.

With a gentleness out of place from everything else that has occurred, Barnum scoops out more of the oil in the jar and slathers a generous amount over Phillip’s asshole. He gasps and recoils out of instinct, cowering at the foreign feeling. Barnum holds him steady, saying, “Stay still. You’ll be okay.”

Phillip manages to calm enough to not squirm when Barnum coats his entrance with the lube. The hand that has returned to his stomach pushes down harder, and Phillip doesn’t know why until an intense line of  _something_  races through his body—oh, that’s _Barnum’s finger in his ass, fuck._

Phillip gives a short cry, drawing his shoulders up as Barnum gently eases his first finger in. He can’t keep himself from clenching down even though he knows it’ll just make it worse because  _what is that,_  what is that  _feeling,_  Phillip can’t even  _think_ —

“Try to relax,” Barnum coaxes. “It’s not even halfway in.”

“Shit,” Phillip groans, doing his best to fall back. It’s a conscious effort not to fight against the natural pain. When he feels the base of Barnum’s finger bump against his entrance, he lets out a long breath.

“There. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” smiles Barnum.

Phillip wants to answer, he does. The best he can do, though, is a long moan that only gets louder when Barnum slowly pulls his finger halfway out and then pushes back in. They continue like this for a minute and the pain slowly but surely fades into something that could be a strange version of pleasure.

The pleasure of being filled, the pleasure of submission, the pleasure of being fucked by Phineas Barnum.

Yes, Phillip likes this just fine.

Somewhere along the line Barnum sneaks his second finger in and it’s another challenge to get used to the pain. Yet somehow it’s not quite as hard, and before long Phillip is rocking his hips back and forth along with Barnum. His face is angled towards the wall behind him as he gasps, “Oh, fuck, Barnum…yeah, I like that, I like that so much—go faster, I-I can take it…”

“It’s nothing compared to my cock,” Barnum snorts, and with him kneeling already fully hard and erect again this is a very effective statement. “But you knew that, don’t you? You want me to fuck you with it? Want me to come in you again?”

“ _Phin_ ,” Phillip wails, sweating profusely. Barnum’s fingers are thrusting in and out of him at a rapid speed and he tilts his hips upwards automatically. “Fuck, Barnum—shit,  _a-a-ah—_ ”

A rising heat pulses behind his eyes. There’s a very clear edge waiting on an invisible plane that Phillip gets closer and closer to tumbling over with each passing second. When Barnum wraps his other hand around his cock again, the pressure almost smothers him. Sounds he never knew he was capable of explode from Phillip’s mouth in the form of wild groans behind shameless pleading. “Barnum,” he cries, curling his toes in. “I—God, I’m gonna—”

And suddenly all the stimulation disappears.

Phillip sits up so fast he almost blacks out for a second. Barnum is grinning at him with his best impression of the Cheshire Cat, which is incredibly appropriate considering what he has just done. “Without me?” he chuckles.

“Phin,” complains Phillip. There are real, genuine tears rolling from his eyes.

“Don’t give me that face. We’re almost done.” Barnum sits back on his knees and tilts the jar of lube into his palm. Some of the excess oil drips on Phillip’s thighs; he pretends not to notice. However he can’t hide his fascination when Barnum takes his own dick into his hands to rub it smoothly between his fingers. Expertly, even, so much so that Phillip can’t help but wonder if he’s done this before.

He gapes in silence as Barnum moves his hand in quick, calculated jerks. More lube spills onto the floor but neither man can bring himself to care. The elder is moaning softly, obscenely, certainly purposely. When he finally stops and unclenches his hand, his full erection is slick and glittering with oil.

“Shit,” Phillip breathes as Barnum spreads him out again. His left hand is warm and moist and almost slips right off his thigh. “Barnum, hold o—”

“Shh.” Barnum positions himself in front of Phillip’s entrance and looms over him, holding onto his hips. “Hold onto those shelves,” he suggests with a glint in his eyes.

Phillip does just that, feeling for the grooves that he has already made in the wood. It only takes the tip at Barnum’s head poking at him for Phillip to start thrashing. It’s already feels so big, so much thicker than the two fingers and he just  _knows_  he’s about to die.

Even with all the lube and preparation Barnum had supplied, the tight ring of muscles protest loudly as they are stretched even wider than before. “Oh,” he whines. “Oh,  _ah-ha…Phin…oh…_ ”

“That’s a good boy,” Barnum tells him, his face working with focus. “There you go. There you go.” His shaking voice gives away his own excitement, and he lets out a quiet moan.

Perhaps out of impatience, Barnum pulls Phillip’s hips towards him to slide in faster. Phillip shrieks at the sudden change in pace. “Phineas,” he cries, recoiling at the burst of pain. He tries to shy away from it, but there’s very little he can do about the firmness in Barnum’s hands.

Barnum is gasping deeply. He slowed down again but Phillip’s asshole still stretches and burns with the effort of adjusting to the elder’s girth. Some of the pain, though, begins to contort and transform and there’s that peculiar feeling again. Of Barnum filling him. For real, this time. And agony be damned, Phillip craves it and the only thought on his mind now is getting  _more._

He clenches without thinking and Barnum lets out a sharp groan. “Oh, God, yeah—do that again.”

Phillip whimpers and tightens up again, exhaling through his teeth. Barnum’s nails drag through his skin as he pants. He pushes the rest of himself in and Phillip can  _feel_  it, he can  _feel_  Barnum inside of him and he feels so carnally complete. Barnum pulls back out after a second and Phillip can’t help but mewl in bliss. The ache is still there, but it arouses him more than anything else.

But of course, he is in no way ready for Barnum to thrust back  _into_  him and Phillip’s body ejects a scream before he’s aware of it. His body bends into a severe arch and his nails are probably rooted in the shelves at this point. Barnum abandons his hips in favor of Phillip’s shoulders and he hangs on, lapsing into a steady tempo. Phillip is moaning so loud that he hardly hears what Barnum is whispering to him. “Fuck, Phillip, you’re so tight and hot,” he breathes. “You feel so good. Just rock with me. Ah—oh, shit, yeah.”

Phillip’s hands fly from the shelf legs and wrap around Barnum’s neck, clinging for dear life. He lost his air some six thrusts ago but he can’t bring himself to care one bit. Everything feels like fire and sounds like sex and smells like Barnum, champagne, heat. Phillip sees in various shades of red, pink, and black, and when he opens his eyes, he thinks he’s drunk again. Barnum’s eyes, so infatuated and sharp, look more beautiful than anything else when they’re fixed on him this close. They radiate passion even when they temporarily shut as Barnum’s rhythm gets faster.

Unabashed cries spill from Phillip’s lips as he rocks down hard on Barnum’s cock. They’re muffled only when Barnum decides to kiss him deeply in time with his thrusts. “Keep moaning,” he encourages him, breathing hard. “You sound so dirty, so good, where did this  _come_  from? Mmm—God, Phillip,  _you’re_   _so beautiful._ ”

As the words leave his mouth, Barnum’s cock suddenly brushes up against a spot that sends Phillip’s fingernails raking down his back. He shrieks Barnum’s name and tilts his head far, far back, feeling Barnum’s teeth bump against his chin. “Phineas,” he shouts again, unable to say anything else. “ _Phineas!_ ”

Barnum himself can barely speak. When he does, it’s heavy with his accent and deep with lust. “Yeah, there it is. First one to find that spot, aren’t I?”

His tone is undoubtedly possessive, telling Phillip over and over again that  _you’re mine, you’re mine and you’ll only ever be mine._

“Yes,” he gasps, trying to pull himself up. “Yes, yes, Barn—more, just a little more,  _ohhh…_ ” His tongue rolls out of his mouth as Barnum keeps hitting that same spot, drawing him closer and closer to that high. He’s there _,_  Phillip’s  _right there._

Barnum wrestles him back into a kiss. Phillip fills his mouth with wanton sounds and now  _he’s_  the one biting and sucking in a craze. He’s sure he is drawing scarlet images over the elder’s back in his frenzy, but the guilt is muted by the pleasure. If anything Barnum is driven by whatever pain he may be feeling. He shifts his hips, hitting Phillip from a new angle that allows him an impossibly deeper passage.

It hurts to shout. This much Phillip registers. Yet he still does—he can’t help it when Barnum is pouring every ounce of strength he has left. His shudders are a tell-tale sign of his mounting high; with a cry he groans, “Phillip—Phillip, oh  _fuck, you’re so good—_ take it, you’re taking it—Phillip— _fuck!_ ”

His last word skyrockets into a strangled howl. His entire body convulses as he drives his entire length into Phillip with the force of a thousand men, nearly falling on top of him. Phillip screams out, feeling stars burst behind his eyelids. Several things happen at once: the first is the weighted heat that explodes inside of him without warning. The second thing is the sensation of someone jerking him off while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. And the last thing follows very shortly after these—a staggering sense of vertigo crashes over him as Phillip plunges over that edge. It’s accompanied by an all-consuming feel of satisfaction, of pleasure, and a high-pitched sound that can only be his own shrieking. And then Phillip is coming, coming  _hard,_  with no intention of stopping.

Barnum holds him the entire time, hugging him to his chest as Phillip sobs as he comes. He somewhat refocuses a couple minutes later, shivering as the last drops of his load drains out of him. And then it’s just Barnum, Barnum combing his hair back and Barnum kissing his cheek and Barnum slowly lowering him to the ground. When Phillip opens his eyes he sees that the man is shining iridescently, and he thinks it’s the liquor acting up again until he realizes it’s his cum.

It takes a while for Phillip to calm down. Barnum waits patiently the whole time, eyes never leaving his. When he stops trembling he can only croak out one word: “Phineas.”

And Barnum is there, bending over him and touching him gently. “Phillip,” he breathes. “Shit, you look exhausted…was that alright? My God, tell me I wasn’t too rough.”

Somehow Phillip laughs. “It’s…fine. We…we’re drunk.”

“Not when I fucked you,” Barnum says, guiding his fingers down Phillip’s face. The thirst is gone, replaced by the authenticity of affection. “Half of the glasses I drank I put down. I was drunk when I kissed you. That’s it.” And then suddenly he looks very worried. “Were—were you drunk the whole time? Fuck, Phillip, don’t tell me I—”

Phillip reaches up, slinging his arms around Barnum’s neck and shaking his head adamantly. “No, I…wanted it. I did. I would’ve…gone away. If I didn’t.”

Barnum understands enough and sighs in relief. “Okay. Good.” He gingerly removes Phillip’s hands and holds them as he leans away. He just smiles when Phillip looks at him, almost hurt by the action. “I’m sorry, it’s just. Everything I said. Everything—everything I meant.”

“So did I.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.” Barnum tries to lift Phillip into his lap, but stops when the younger man gives a sound of pain at the flare of agony in his ass. “Sorry. But nothing means anything while I’m halfway inside of your asshole, so—I said you looked beautiful.”

“Barnum,” Phillip murmurs, because the older man suddenly stopped talking. Now he’s just gazing at Phillip, not unlike the way he always saw Barnum look at Charity.

Not unlike the way he’s been told he looked at Anne.

Not unlike the way he  _knows_  he looks at Barnum.

Barnum’s head is lowering, lowering to his lips and stopping only to mumble, “Well, you absolutely are.”

Phillip is crying again when Barnum kisses him. A real, fragile kiss, worlds different than the all the ones they’ve already shared. The kind of kiss that you would want as your first; the kind of kiss that  _deserved_  to be your first. It’s slow and the only thing that Phillip could possibly relax in. Barnum is impossibly gentle; he is tender and slow as if he is afraid the moment they are sharing will shatter if he makes a wrong move. And frankly, that is a fear that Phillip shares in. With the roughness that Barnum has proven himself capable of and the taste for aggression Phillip has discovered he personally enjoys, it is perfectly reasonable to think that at any given second, they will break.

He only takes the risk to turn away when he feels sturdily tethered to the body against his. “When you…started singing to me. That was—that was when.” He takes a deep breath. “You looked—beautiful to me too?”And that’s as close as he’ll get, as close as he  _dares_  to get, to saying how he suspects he truly feels.

Luckily, Barnum hears what Phillip doesn’t say. He always does. He grins as he falls onto his side next to Phillip and strokes his hair stiff with sweat and tears. “You’re tired, baby,” he whispers. “Close your eyes, okay? Sleep on me.”

Phillip doesn’t actually hear the last bit because he’s so hung up over that name.  _Baby._  Not once has he ever heard Barnum call anyone that, even Charity. Maybe it was just a publicity thing, but for it to be aimed at  _him,_  so  _intimately…_

He almost says it. “I.” Phillip chokes on the impact of his words, and it feels like he’s trying to force a lump of wood out from his throat. “Barnum, I…”

“Don’t say things you wouldn’t in the morning,” Barnum warns him, but his voice is still warm. Soothing. Lulling him. “Also, I never did thank you. So my deepest gratitude to you, Phillip—you’re the heart of this circus, and the beat of my own.”

From anyone else, the poetic ring to his words would sound silly. But the way Barnum says it, as sincerely as he stares into Phillip’s eyes, he knows it is one of the truest things that has ever been uttered in the history of the world. He’s certain nothing he could respond with would even begin to measure up, but he tries. “I need you,” he says quietly. “I needed you…before. And hell, I still do.”

A smile lightens Barnum’s features. “I could say the same thing.”

Barnum brushes Phillip’s hair for a few more seconds before easing the smaller man against him. Phillip tucks his head underneath Barnum’s chin and breathes once, twice, three times. He still shakes faintly, though he is no longer nervous. Now he’s only weary, and the appeal of Barnum so close to him only sends him further into his fatigue.

He feels lips against the top of his head and he clutches Barnum tighter. Phillip wants—needs—to feel the heat of the man’s skin against his. It leads him into a state of security and he basks in it tearfully, wondering how he ever found this place of solitude.

“Sleep,” Barnum says again, a thousand miles away. And Phillip does.

 

 

_END_

**Author's Note:**

> Let's hope that quality makes up for quantity as far as Barlyle smut on AO3 goes because this was easily one of the longest and most detailed explicit works I have ever written. If you'll excuse me.
> 
> \--Special credit to those of you who betaed, including the lovely Kate_Joy_St and brilliant Barlyle (this is for you!)--


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